A Different Side of You
by Sapphira Pendragon
Summary: Rose has despised Scorpius for 6 yrs...or so she says. Every once in a while she catches him doing things that make her heart ache with longing. It's 7th yr now, her last chance to tell him how she really feels. When a ancient enemy arises and Hogwarts becomes a place of peril, can Rose and Scorpius put aside past differences and defeat the coming evil before it's too late?
1. A Prologue in Two (Part 1)

Had Fate been kind to me as a child, I would have been safe.

Sane.

I would have heeded my father's warning from the very beginning. I would have meant my uncertain nod, and my eyes, wide as saucers at the time, would have slit into a withering glare when they swiveled to see where my father was pointing as he murmured to Uncle Harry. I still remember the scene, the first time I saw him, clear as yesterday, swirling around my mind like silvery Pensive.

Fate had been decidedly cruel that day.

 _"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," Daddy had said, stooping down to address me and my cousin Albus, "but no pressure." He had the tell-tale twinkle in his bright blue eyes that should have clued us in that he was kidding. But the color drained from our faces nonetheless._

 _"Ron!" Mum scolded crossly, causing Daddy, Uncle Harry, Lily, and Hugo to laugh. Rolling her eyes, Aunt Ginny swatted her older brother on the shoulder._

" _Ignore him." She said, though she smiled as though part of an inside joke. Albus and I exchanged uneasy glances and I knew we shared the same thought; that I was terrified that I'd be sorted to Ravenclaw and he was terrified to be sent to Slytherin. Our whole family had been Gryffindors. To be anything other was like… sacrilege or something. Besides, we were a team, me and Albus. A firebrand Seeker and a calm, collected Keeper. We couldn't be separated._

 _Ever._

 _"He doesn't mean it." Mum added when she noticed our silent exchange, cupping my cheek and trying to fix Albus' unruly hair – a battle she'd never win. Aunt Ginny had given up years ago, but Mum was still holding on that my cousin's hair would lie flat. Albus, for once, was too nervous to duck under her fussing._

 _Suddenly I sensed a change. Perhaps it was because Daddy had tensed up ever so slightly. Or maybe it was how he'd caught Uncle Harry's eye, nodding covertly to a point some fifty yards away. Squinting and sidling a little closer to them, my eyes widened as the steam cleared and for a moment in time three people stood in sharp relief against the shifting mist._

 _"Look who it is." We all had looked, seen, heard the growl in Daddy's voice. His arm looped protectively around my shoulders. Mum and Aunt Ginny distracted Lily and Hugo with a flurry of conversation to keep them occupied. Albus fiddled with his glasses, using the hem of his rumpled shirt to polish them, a nervous tick he'd never grow out of. Uncle Harry observed the figures with an un-readable expression. He'd always been really good at those – a trait that I envied. My skin, pale as the moon, had an unfortunate habit of breaking into a blazing blush whenever my emotions tipped any other way than neutral._

 _I for one was speechless. I had never seen a former Death Eater before, and briefly, I was disappointed. Though the family tales always negated this, I'd always expected a Death Eater to look more… death-like. More evil, really. After all, he'd almost murdered Mum, Daddy, and Uncle Harry in the Battle of Hogwarts. It was for that reason I knew I hated_ him _at least._

 _But Draco Malfoy was simply standing there, a dark Muggle-styled coat buttoned up to the pale skin of his throat. His receding hair only served to emphasize his sharply pointed chin. A gorgeous, model-esque witch stood at his arm, chocolaty brown ringlets that I instantly envied – my deep auburn curls had still been in their frizzy stage then and refused to look pleasant in anything but a chignon –framing a heart-shaped face and dark eyes framed with smoldering black lashes._

 _Admittedly, my eyes only skimmed them; the former Death-Eater and his surely half-Veela wife._

 _Even then – and I will insist until my dying breath that Fate was to blame – my gaze was inexplicably drawn to him. To the most beautiful boy I had ever seen._

 _His defined cheekbones gave him an aristocratic air that I supposed Daddy despised, though I found them striking. He looked remarkably like his father, but I noticed hints of his mother there too as we drew closer. Long lashes any girl – me included – would die for. Fuller lips – I blushed upon noticing that one. His pale blonde hair had streaks of flaxen and gold, hinting it would darken with age. It was messier, longer than his father's in a defiant way that I couldn't help admire. His skin sun-kissed as though he spent more time outdoors – a prospective Quidditch player perhaps. Grey eyes several shades lighter than charcoal._

 _Without warning, that flinty gaze, too solemn for an eleven year-old off to his first year at Hogwarts, collided with mine._

 _Narrowed in thought._

 _Widened in recognition._

 _Flittered to my parents._

 _Halted on my uncle._

 _Skittered back to mine._

 _He swallowed, gulped._ The only time I saw him nervous.

 _I don't know what made me do it_ – and as much as I want to I can't keep on blaming Fate – _but I smiled. I think it shocked him._

 _He stumbled._ The only time I saw him unsure of his footing.

 _And then… his lips quirked upward before he turned away with his parents – I think they noticed us staring. I'm sure of it. Perhaps it'd been a spasm. A nervous twitch. Either way my heart stuttered. Skipped Muggle double-dutch._

And Fate began her game. I like to think of it as Monopoly – Mum loved teaching us Muggle board games – if the board is my mind and the properties are the wee bits of my sanity being scooped up by Fate's greedy hands one by one.

It was the only time I saw him smile.

At me at least. The infamous Malfoy smirk doesn't count, though the giddy, stupid part of me likes to pretend it does.

 _Albus abruptly yanked me sideways, and I escaped my thoughts long enough to narrowly avoid smacking into a rather grumpy looking wizard._

" _So that's little Scorpius," said Daddy under his breath, "Make sure you beat him in every test Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother's brains."_

 _Part of me wished I'd meant my uncertain nod, my saucer-wide eyes attempting a withering glare at their retreating backs and utterly failing. My cousin nodded gravely, prepared to help me succeed by whatever means necessary._

" _Ron, for heaven's sake," Mum scolded sternly, though I could have sworn she was amused. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"_

" _You're right, sorry." Daddy chuckled as we head towards the Hogwarts Express, but unable to help himself he bent down and whispered in my ear, "Don't get_ too _friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood."_

 _I blushed to the roots of my hair, much to my chagrin. Where had that come from?! Marriage? Wedding? Scorpius Malfoy?_

 _Scorpius Malfoy._

Malfoy.

 _Wait, he hadn't seen me doing… whatever I'd been doing, right? No. Of course not._

 _I giggled nervously._

Right?

* * *

 **A/N: Hi. This is my first Harry Potter based fanfic so please bear with me. I'll try to update every week, but I've got a couple other stories going so it'll change accordingly. Anywho, please review. I think everyone can agree it's very motivating when you know people actually like your story. Until next time then.  
**


	2. A Prologue in Two (Part 2)

Contrary to popular opinion, my acclaimed hatred of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy did not start the first time I saw him, although Fate has already took it upon herself to make that quite clear – if she were here I do believe I would be tempted to strangle her.

Nor did it begin the second, when escaping James – we were playing the wizarding edition of hide and go seek, a heck of a lot more fun than its predecessor though it tends to put the players in mortal peril – I literally ran into him on the Hogwarts Express – in the weeks to come I would remember fondly the image of him sprawled on his arse, his perfectness awry.

When I scrambled up, an apology perched and ready to fly from my tongue…

And nothing came out – besides the undignified squeak that doesn't deserve to be mentioned.

When the ghost of a smile – Nearly Headless Nick would have been proud. So proud – tugged at my lips…

And he just stared. And stared.

When my heart flipped and flopped and floundered in the shallows of my chest...

And I turned and ran without a word between us – charming lass I was.

The second time we met, l had the unexplainable urge to touch the faint freckles on those beautiful sun-kissed cheeks – oh, happy dagger, here is thy sheath – but I most certainly did not hate him.

I would learn. Enlightenment threw peddles at the reasoning part of my mind – that had clearly been deactivated – just a few short hours later.

So no, it was not the first, the second, the third – we were seated across from each other on the boat ride to Hogwarts and refused to look at each other. At least, he did. I couldn't help peeking. Pathetic yes, I'm well aware, but then I didn't ask for an opinion – but the forth time we crossed paths that I decided I utterly despised the youngest Malfoy boy.

" _Come on."_ _I grabbed Al's arm and dragged him behind me as he tried to discreetly bypass the castle doors._

" _But Rose, the Sorting–"_

" _No buts. We're both getting into Gryffindor so there's absolutely nothing to worry about." I replied, more so to damper my own insecurities than his. "You can't spend the whole night standing outside."_

" _O-okay."_

 _Following the flow of half-ecstatic, half-jittery eleven-year- olds, we flooded the main hall with nerves and chatter. Glimpsing movement out of the corner of my eye, I let my head fall back, staring up at the arching ceiling that flittered with painted fairies while Al maintained the expression of one about to be executed._

Rose Weasley. _I thought, watching one fairy scratch his long pointed nose._ You're going to be just fine. You and Al will get into Gryffindor. Sure, everyone says it'll be Ravenclaw, but Mum was even more suited than you for Rowena's house and she's one the most famous Gryffindors ever. It'll be fine…I hope–

" _Rosie!" I winced as my head snapped down harder than I expected. A tall girl – she stood at least two heads over me – with long dark braids flew towards us, cinnamon cheeks blooming raspberry and woodsy brown eyes alight. She barreled to a stop before us, gave a giggling hop and wrapped us in a crushing hug._

" _Himani Patil," Chiding, gasping, I winced as my spine cricked and cracked. "We can't – breathe."_

" _What? Oh sorry!" Albus coughed as she released us and I patted his back. My best friend stilled for a half second, then started dancing merrily around. "I can't believe we're finally here! I've decided I don't care what how I'm Sorted into, just as long as we're all together, so I guess it'll be Gryffindor." She squealed. The look on Al's face said he thought she was insane, which she very well could have been. Mani's magic tended to go to her head when we were children._

 _Just as I was about to reply, or pull out my wand – Willow, 14 ½ inches, phoenix feather, swift and springy – and try a spell I'd been practicing to lower Mani's hyperactivity levels, a scathing voice taunted us from behind._

"Gryffindor? _Who'd want to be in Gryffindor? I'd think I'd quit if I had to be surrounded by all those Weasleys for seven years straight."_

 _I spun, an angry blush pooling in my cheeks, finding myself face to face with the beautiful boy. Scorpius was surrounded by a handful of first years who, one look at them and you just knew they'd be joining Slytherin._

 _For a moment, I was confused because surely this wasn't the same boy as the one from Platform 9 ¾. The shy, uncertain boy who almost smiled at me, almost wanted to be friends. The one Fate had nudged me at, like some meddlesome matchmaker. Suddenly he was arrogant and cocky, sneering and mocking._

" _Oh, sorry." He said meanly, not sorry at all. "I should have known. Red hair, freckles, and the face of a gargoyle. Found one." His cronies snickered. I felt my eyes prick, which only made me angrier. Sure, I knew I wasn't beautiful, like Himani or Dominique. But I wasn't ugly either, merely pretty perhaps, but certainly not ugly._

 _Or so I thought. Self-consciously, I glanced at Albus, who was now staring at Scorpius as though he were the executioner._

" _What's your problem? That was so mean! You can't just say things like that!" Himani demanded, stalking up to him – to our delight she towered over him – more loudly than I wished, causing more than a few heads to turn in our direction. "You little –"_

" _Oh," I interrupted calmly, pushing Himani aside. Uncomfortably, I felt the crowd's attention shift towards me, but it was too late to turn back. I leveled Malfoy with my most withering look. Like he was a nasty squashed bug on the bottom of my Mary Jane's. Though really I felt like my little naïve heart had cracked in two and shattered as the pieces fell against my ribcage. "It's you."_

" _Yeah?" He jutted his pointy chin out at me. "So what it's me?"_

" _Oh nothing." I spat. "I just figured when we saw you in the station that I'd eventually have the misfortune of meeting you. It's such a shame it had to be before supper. I rather think you ruined my appetite and I was_ so _looking forward to a slice a treacle tart_."

" _You_ rather _thought?" Malfoy sneered. "Wow Weasley, you're such a princess. How do your friends stand you? Oh, wait. You probably don't have any."_

" _I have plenty of friends!" I seethed. It was a lie. Himani Patil, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, and Lydia Thomas were the only friends I had outside my cousins, and that was mostly because our parents were friends in the latter three's case. Marching up to him, I didn't halt until we were foot to foot, nose to nose –_ well nose to chin, it irks me to no end that Malfoy has always been taller than me. _Close enough to see the small white scar on the left side of his jaw._ I've always wondered about that scar, seeing how in my family scars have little more meaning than just a cool mark. _  
_

" _Who, your cousins?" Laughing, he stared down at me with a look of superiority. I wanted to hit him. "They don't count."_

" _At least I'm nice! That's more than I can say about you!" Gasps filled the atrium when, brandishing my wand, I jabbed it into his chest. "But I suppose that's to be expected from the son of a Death Eater!" Instantly his – Acacia, dragon heartstring, 15 7/8 inches exactly, strong but pliable – was pointed at my temple._

" _Shut up Weasley!" His hand shook._

" _Do it." I taunt, though I was terrified at the look glinting his cold eyes. "I dare you."_

" _Ro, don't!" Himani gasped, though in my peripherals I saw her wand – Dogwood, unicorn hair, 9 ¼ inches, bendy but capricious – out and glowing dangerously. I doubted she knew how to control it._

" _Rose…" Albus hissed, lifting his own – Spruce, Fawkes last feather, 11 inches like his father's, supple – and shoving over to us. "What are you doing?"_

" _Well Malfoy?" Stupidly, I goaded him further, seeing uncertainty flashed across his eyes. "Are you a coward like your father?" I knew I'd gone too far. Something snapped and his expression became murderous. He shouted._

" _Tarant –"_

" _Students!" A new voice yelped in horror and invisible hands yanked us apart. As I stumbled I saw that it was none other than Professor Longbottom, Herbology professor and head of Gryffindor house. I breathed a sigh of relief until he fixed me with a look of reproach. I guiltily tried to hide my wand. "What in the world is going on?"_

 _Everyone started shouting at once. Everyone except me and the boy.  
_

" _Malfoy started it!"_

" _He insulted the Weasley name! What was she supposed to do, ignore it?"_

" _She made him do it!"_

" _He was going to curse her!"_

" _She pulled out her wand first!"_

 _One girl –_ Charity Beauregard, a future Hufflepuff _– started heaving giant sobs, babbling something along the lines that she thought we were going to kill each other –_ please, we were first years _– and she just new this was going to happen –_ we had Divination with Hufflepuff forth year and she was by far Madam Trelawny's favorite. I was her least – _and that somebody needed do something about her, meaning me –_ we never got along after that incident, needless to say.

" _Everyone please calm down." Longbottom flicked his wand and procured a hankie for Charity, who sniffled endearingly -_ How one does this, I have no idea. My sniffles tend to be full of...phlegm - _surrounded by her sympathetic friends. "Mr. Malfoy,_ Miss. Weasley _." I repressed a sigh. So much for being at an advantage knowing your house head…if they let me into Gryffindor after this. I stared defiantly at my Mary Jane's._

They did incidentally, well actually the Sorting hat did. After receiving a stern reprimand from Professor Longbottom, threatening that if there was trouble again he'd write our parents – I failed to remind him Daddy would be much more likely to congratulate me than send a Howler – we'd been ushered in, hearts quaking. Malfoy was Sorted Slytherin to no one's surprise. I'd cheered myself hoarse when Himani, Albus, Lydia, Lysander, and Dominique all made Gryffindor – Lorcan didn't seem too put out to be in Ravenclaw and immediately joined a group of boys with glasses half the size of their faces. Then suddenly it was my turn and I was floating to the chair, shaking so terribly I thought I'd faint.

It was on my head for less than eight seconds before announcing I was in fact Gryffindor material. Nearly collapsing with purest relief, I had rushed to our cheering table, into the arms of my new house.

Only when I'd finish stuffing myself with supper and desert – the treacle tart was glorious – did I see him again. Hanging backs from his Slytherin goons, watching me. Our eyes met, sky blue and silver, the same as our fathers. For a moment I wanted to apologize, wanted to say I hadn't meant it, that we could still be friends.

But I didn't. I had hardened my poor little heart. I'd reached out, I'd offered myself, I'd smiled at him and he spat it back in my face. And so I narrowed my eyes in the fiercest glare and mouthed the words I didn't mean but lived by for the next six years.

 _I hate you._

If he was surprised, hurt, crushed – and I had hoped he was – Malfoy didn't show it. His lips spread into that telltale smirk. I knew what it met.

 _Likewise Weasley._

And thus began the acclaimed Weasley-Malfoy wars, the stuff of legend.

The years flittered by. I remained just as short and small as I ever was - though I didn't mind much as it made me perfect Seeker material. To my delight my hair released its frizzy tendencies and darkened to a deep shade of auburn so that it fell in swirling ringlets down my back when I wore it loose - a rare thing indeed. My face grew into my too-large eyes and my freckles faded and my skin paled until finally I could look my reflection in the eye and call myself pretty without fearing a snarky comment in return.

And the war raged on.

Epic duels in the halls and tricks from Uncle George's shop that more often than not included a free trip to the Infirmary. Biting comments and withering insults in and out of class that led to a number of screaming matches. And, of course, all out war on the Quidditch pitch. I was made Seeker second year – Albus naturally was the new Keeper when Scarlet Wood graduated – and he, Malfoy, third. The result was foul play every game with Slytherin and a great number of penalty shots awarded to Gryffindor. The House Cup always, always came down to our two houses. For a bliss-filled time between first and fifth year, I forgot that once upon a time I'd wanted to be friends. I hated him then. Really truly hated him.

But Fate wasn't through just yet. Around the middle of sixth year I began to notice things. Little pockets in time that made me think stupid things. I recorded the instances in my brain, holding onto them like a life preserver of peace in my ocean of hate.

The first was when I saw him kneeling beside a weeping Ravenclaw first year in the deserted Charms corridor – I had ducked behind Archie – a.k.a Sir Archibald Chadwick, a shy suit of armor who never spoke so he never betrayed my hiding spot – and watched in shock as he rubbed the poor girl's back and murmured comforts. As her tears quieted and she gazed at him in worshipful awe. As he suddenly grinned and poked her stomach, making her giggle. She threw her tiny arms around him and skipped off, her shoes clacking off the polished marble. He'd followed her with his eyes, soft and smiling. For a long time after he left, I simply sat there, stunned, suddenly remembering the solemn boy at the station.

The one I wanted to talk to.

The one I wanted to touch.

Horrified I shook myself. Clearly I'd hit my head on Archie's thigh armor. I called up any number of instances where Malfoy made me cry into the privacy of my pillow, trying to convince myself – unsuccessfully – that I'd experienced a hallucination.

Weeks later, hours after a visit to Hagrid with Al and Lysander, I had gone for a midnight jaunt in the Forbidden Forest. Stupid yes, but Gryffindor bravery is a combination of courage, pluck, honor, and no small amount of stupidity so no surprise there. Al's Invisibility cloak concealed me from any monsters worth worrying about anyway.

Suddenly the screech of a hippogriff caused liquid ice to fill my veins and the fine hairs on the back of my next to rise. Treading silently, the willow wand ready, I came to a moonlit clearing where the creature laid, shrieking in pain. Shrieking beside the boy. I sucked in a horrified breath that was concealed by another scream. Her wing was bent at an awkward angle, sticky blood matting her feathers. She rested her proud head on his lap, and he stroked her as he muttered healing incantations under his breath, voice deep and soft and in every meaning of the word gentle. Slowly, her wing was washed and bound, straightened with a splint. The hippogriff quieted and nuzzle his fingers with her beak. And there on his lips a weary smile.

I backed away then, far enough to run without being heard. It was the Whomping Willow who finally stopped me, for even under the cloak it sensed my presence and swung threateningly at my head. I deactivated its limbs and climbed high, nestling the its top most branches, caught in such utter confusion, I was dizzy and giddy all at once. Smiling at the moon before I pinched my arm, shaking myself. Was I addled? Insane? This was Malfoy. _Malfoy._ As in my lifelong rival, my bitterest enemy. Perhaps I was sick, I had told myself. Stressed. Anything but what I was feeling.

What was I feeling?

The worst part is that I can go on to when I glimpsed his kindness to the house elves, or when I found him asleep in a quiet corner of the library one late afternoon. I'd thought everyone had gone to Hogsmeade, but there he was, an open Transfiguration book as his pillow, those perfect lashes fanning his cheeks. Or even when I caught myself staring at him one night in the Quidditch pitch during practice, when he waltzed onto the field in all his cocky, shirtless glory, demanding that he too had the right to practice – why he had to be shirtless to do this was a mystery to me. My team thought that when every drop of blood drained from my face and I told him to bugger off, it was from anger.

Now there are exactly five days, six hours, thirty-two minutes, and fifty eight, seven, six seconds until we – me, Albus, Lily, Hugo, Dom, Fred, Louis… oh forget it. There are way too many cousins to name at this point – return to Hogwarts, three of us for the last time.

There are some certainties in life. That after a storm comes a rainbow, that water always flows downhill, and that Weasleys hate Malfoys.

Except I, Rose Athena Weasley, do _not_ hate the youngest Malfoy boy.

There. Secrets out. My father is going to kill me.

I don't even dislike him. I can't even find it in my heart of hearts to imagine smacking that all-knowing smirk off his face. No, for the first time in my sixteen-going-on-seventeen years of existence, I have no idea what to feel about him at all.

But I swear on my honor as a witch that if I ever find Fate I will kill her with my bare hands.

Because I think I just might like him.

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 **A/N: Wotcher dearies :) The prologue is officially done! And I got it done before I had to go to work! Now we can move into the real story (and 3** **rd** **person POV *sobs in relief*) Thank you to Guest and Evelyn McKay for your reviews. McKay, that was probably the nicest one I've ever read so double thanks. Anyway read it, love it, review it. Saffy Pen over and out.**


	3. Black Sheep, Black Sheep

When the trio of Hogwarts owls arrived at the Burrow four days from our return to Hogwarts, Grandma Weasley nearly has a conniption. 'Nearly' because Mum is there to murmur a charm and Uncle George is there to catch her and carry her to her favorite chair – Plush and squishy with a blooming floral design. Once she settles, it's really quite alright, though Mum and Grandpa still hover.

At their incessant tapping I let the owls in and offer them strips of bacon that they gobble gratefully. Though I dread what's to come. The reason for the almost-conniption is obvious. There are three eligible grandchildren – six actually if you count Himani, Lysander, and Lorcan, which everyone does – and only two available positions for Head Boy and Head Girl.

Five grandchildren, I hope. Head Girl is something I don't want, but everyone expects. Of course the family also thinks I'm taking a Ministry job after I graduate – kind of a tradition now – but I don't want that either. Sighing drearily as I count off seven of Knuts into each owl's sack – honestly, the prices have gone up and they make a killing off my family – I take the stack of letters, sending the already hectic kitchen into mad house conditions. I toss the letters in the center of the table, narrowly missing a splotch of apricot jam - pity - and slink back next to Al and Uncle Harry – he at least seems to understand my plight and smiles sympathetically – trying to fade into the background with my cousin.

"Avada me please." I mutter, pulling my shirt from my skin, cursing the humidity that makes my thighs stick to the chair. The hair band on my wrist is immediately put to use to turn my ponytail into a bun and the slight – very slight – breeze that tickles the nape of my neck is somewhat relieving. Al's lips twitch in the beginnings of a wry smile.

"Let them have their fun. It'll be over in a minute."

"No, it won't. As soon as Mum finds out I'm not Head– hey! Molly let go – Hugo! – argh!"

We protest as the younger set of cousins – might as well rattle them off now: Fred, Hugo, Lily, Louis, Lucy, Molly, Jolie, Eugene, and Quillan, the last three being Uncle Charlie and Aunt Delphinium's – yank us from our chairs and push us to the room's center. I trip over someone's foot and barrel head first into Lysander, who playfully throws an arm around my shoulders, steadying me.

"Careful there, love." He says with a cocky grin and tugs on one of my curls escaping around my face, using it to tickle my nose. I scowl darkly, batting his hand away. Seeing my father watching us with steadily rising eyebrows, I pinch his arm off as though it's the plague, squeezing between Dominique and Himani. The last thing I need is for Dad to get the wrong idea about us – Mum and Dad would be thrilled, I think, if Mum's hinting is anything to go by. Lysander is everything they'd want in a sun-in-law. Charming, handsome, and on a one way trip to Minister of Magic with his qualifications - But there is no _us_. Lysander flirts with just about anything that moves and has gone out with nearly every girl in 7th year. 'Nearly' because Himani, Dom, and I are immune to his wiles and point blank refuse to. Someone has to set an example for the younger girls.

"I'm not your _love_ , thank you one very much." The younger set begins chanting and circling around us – six-year-old Quillan's feet leave the ground twice as they speed up.

"O-o-o, looks like somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Make him leave me alone." I mumble into Mani's shoulder. Laughing, she pats my head and waggles a finger at him.

"You leave my Ro alone mister, or I'll hex you."

"I will if she goes out with me."

"Absolutely not." I roll my eyes, ignoring Lorcan and Al's chuckles. Dom grins and nudges me with her elbow. Even Himani cracks a grin, showing dimples that leave most guys dreaming. Though they're not aimed at him, Al blushes.

"Aw, why not Rosie?" Lysander gives me twinkling blue puppy eyes – a look many a weak woman have succumb to. I pride myself in being made of stronger stuff.

"Don't call me that. And, uh, let's see," I pretend to think, "because you've snogged about every girl in our class, maybe?"

"Not you." At least he didn't try to deny it, I suppose. That's something... _not_. "Besides, I think you'd like snogging me." Lorcan snickers at the disgusted growl that gurgles up from my throat until I spear him with a glare that sends him fiddling with his glasses. The cousins start chanting louder and, out of the corner of my eye, I see Aunt Audrey approaching with the dreaded letters. _Please oh please oh_ please!

"Give it a rest. Why don't you bother Himani for a change?"

"Because you're the only one playing hard to get."

"I am not –" Pausing, I spin around and look up at my best friend, who has the shame to look slightly abashed. Slightly. "Wait," I squint at her suspiciously. Did you? Oh tell me you didn't –"

"Oh, she did." Dom smirks, tossing her silvery hair over her shoulder. "It's just you and me now Ro."

"Exactly why am I that last to know about this?" I stare at Mani like I've just met her. She actually kissed Lysander?

"Look, _he_ kissed _me_. Not the other way around." Himani protests, her cheeks blooming with a maroon that complements her dark complexion.

"You certainly snogged me back sweetheart."

Al, in the middle of a long draught of orange juice, sputters and both Lorcan and I have to smack his back a couple times to keep him from choking. Eyes watering, Al grunts out a muffled thank you and retreats to the glass of water Aunt Angie passes him, not looking at any of us.

"Perhaps we should open up those letters now?" Mum suggests, getting up to worriedly smooth Al's messy hair. He waits for her to cease with the kind of patience I can't fathom.

Somehow the letters end up back in my hand and I pass them out, trembling, glowering at Lysander when he purposely holds my hand longer than necessary. Discreetly I press my combat boots onto his bare toes until he yelps – and blink innocently up at Mum when she glances at me sharply.

Holding my breath but knowing it'll be easiest just to get this over with, I slit mine with my pocket knife – why does a witch carry a pocket knife, you may ask? Because it's sharper than a wand, that's why – and pull out the thick parchments, one baring a list of my supplies and the other…

"Albus is Head Boy!" James crows, filching the gleaming badge before his younger brother can react. "Aw, wittle Ally. It's so cute!"

"Shut it James." Al grumbles, his voice thin and his eyes wide like a deer in wand light.

"Congratulations Al." I say, truly happy for him, and poke his shoulder. He's stunned – frozen.

"Oh, honey, that's wonderful!" Aunt Ginny wraps her arms around him as Uncle Harry ruffles his hair. So much for Mum's fussing.

"We're proud of you." He says quietly.

"Does it say who the Head Girl is? It's Rose isn't it. I bet it's Rosy-Posy." In true Chaser style, Lily manages to duck under my half-hearted smack – half-hearted because I'm dying to know, terrified to know.

Al's speechless when he looks over at me, shrugging.

Frantically I open my letter, muttering one last prayer and…

 _ **Miss. Rose A. Weasley**_ _, you have been chosen to be Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain this year. Please be aware…_

Happiness blossoms in my chest and I'm suddenly as light as a Wingardium Leviosa'ed feather.

"I'm captain!" I gasp, laughing. Himani squeals and she and Dom smother me with a hug. "They made me captain!"

"Rose, I thought you said you were going to be Head Girl." Reproachfully, Uncle Percy shakes his head. Mum obviously thought so too, but she tries not to show it.

"That's wonderful sweetheart."

"So this means–" Grandma starts, disappointment evident.

"That my daughter is the best Quidditch player in the school!" Reaching into the circle Dad suddenly picks me up and spins me round and round like a top, like he did when I was little. I'm giggling dizzily when he finally sets me down.

"Whoa Dad, I wouldn't go that far." I say, blushing when I notice Lysander watching me.

"Best Seeker then." Shrugging, I grin.

"Sounds about right."

"Who are the other captains?" Lily demands, looking over my shoulder and we both skim.

 _ **Mr. Isaac U. Fletcher**_ _– Hufflepuff_

"But didn't he fall off his broom last year?"

"Lily, _all_ Hufflepuffs fall off their brooms."

"Yeah, but Beaters kinda have to stay on them."

"Again, he's a _Hufflepuff."_

 _ **Miss. Ming Lu**_ _– Ravenclaw_

"Figures. Ravenclaw nearly beat us last year. Wasn't her mum really good Dad?"

"Um..."

"Your father was much better dear."

"Oh yeah, she's the really pretty one Ro."

"If that's supposed to make me jealous, it isn't working."

"Your words, not mine."

"Who's trying to make who jealous?"

Neither one us respond to Hugo's raised brows. Cheeks growing hotter by the second, I find the last name and my jaw drops.

 _ **Mr. Scorpius H. Malfoy**_ _– Slytherin_

My heart flutters. Why Fate, just why? Is there no blasted end to your cruelty?

"Are you bloody kidding me?!" Lily fumes after I finish groaning, balling her fists. "Him?! I swear anybody but that stupid, son-of-a-Death-Eater –"

"Lily Luna Potter, how many times have I told you not to use that word?"

"Oh, give it a rest Ginny." Dad's blue eyes have turned stormy, like they do whenever they talk of the Dark Days. Which is my cue to leave. "It's what he was. His son is headed the same way. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Ron, don't start now."

"It's the truth Hermione."

"Scorpius is his own person dear. It's wrong to judge him by his father."

"But according to Rose, he's exactly like Malfoy."

I try to catch Himani's eye, motioning subtly towards the door to the back garden. She gives no impression of noticing me, but as I slip out into the hall, I see her willowy form slowly disappearing under the table, inch by inch.

* * *

"And that concludes another once-in-a-lifetime Weasley-Potter breakfast at the Burrow." I sigh, eyes trailing Saoirse, my barn owl - incidentally pronounced SEAR-sha – chase after a flock of swallows swooping overhead. They dip and dive in a synchronized ballet as Himani and I stroll along the dirt road that winds around the hills surrounding Grandma and Grandpa's home. Gusts of warm breezes tease the countryside, whispering hints of autumn, and then scorching the wilting blades of grass when they least expect it.

"Oh don't be like that. You've been grumpy ever since last night." Mani says, flicking my shoulder. There's a sheen of sweat on her warm brown skin that she somehow makes look attractive – a trait I can't help but envy. Exertion causes uneven red splotches to appear on my cheeks and droplets of sweat to drip from my chin. Not charming in the slightest no matter what way you look at it. "Besides it wasn't all that bad. I think they're wonderful. You've seen what meals at my house are like."

"Yeah, nobody screams." Dinners at the Patil house - Lemmesplain, there are few surnames in India as it is and the number in the Wizarding world is significantly less - are perfectly charming. Everyone sits straight in their chairs, speaks in their very best inside voices, passes dishes to the left with genuine smiles, and no one ever, ever bickers.

Besides, Indian food is to die for.

"Because they're all as stiff as Charity Beauregard." Rocks skitter along the path as Himani starts skipping, proving she is as unlike Charity as a butterfly is to a slug. "I bet she's Head Girl." She calls as I run to catch up to her - the evil witch of the long legs. "God, she'll be even more insufferable than usual. Poor Albus. She'll be all over him that moment she sees him." An ugly truth to be sure. Starting sometime around third year, Charity decided that she would marry my cousin one day and had been stalking him ever since. It was rather horrifying and Al had taken to hiding in the Owlry with Saoirse and Aragorn – his albino great horned – to escape her clutches. "Who _does_ Al like anyway?" She suddenly asks. "He never tells me when I ask him."

 _There's a reason for that…_

Feigning breathlessness, shielding my eyes from the sun's glare, I look down the road to where a part of the forest begins. A group of Muggles our age amble towards us, likely from Ottery St. Catchpole. I frown, recognizing some and wonder what they're doing this far from the village. There are spells for that...

"Let's go this way." I take Mani's arm and pull her down a lane running perpendicular to the one we're on. The grass is higher here and scratches at our legs as we march on. "I don't particularly want to talk to Muggles today. They ask too many questions."

"You know, don't you?" It's not so much a question as it is a statement. I flash her a mysterious smile and clasp my hands behind my back, innocently whistling a lively Irish reel that adds a bounce and skip to my step. "Ro, tell me." She whines, hanging onto my arm.

"I promised not to." Al may very well Avada me if I ever told.

"But I'm your best friend in the whole wide world."

"So is he."

She huffs, crinkling her nose at me. Ducking under a low hanging pine bough that sprinkles needles into our hair, we enter the woods. The shade that falls in dark shadows instantly cools us. The wind shifts so it's blowing the wet strands of hair from our faces, soothing the sun in our cheeks. Saoirse suddenly alights to my shoulder, her long talons digging into the leather patch I'd sewn together after too many shirts ruined by pinpricks of blood dotting the front. She pecks affectionately at my ear, cuddling into my neck. I stroke her head, shifting my fingers to that I'm scratching the underside of her chin.

A half-hour passes as we hike in silence – Himani could have filled it with gossip, but she's learned to respect my love of quiet – with only gibbering sparrows and clucking squirrels to fill the void our voices normally would. Skirting around briar and brambles, clambering over moss-strewn boulders, and hoisting ourselves over the ridge, we make our way down to Alastair's Pond. Spring fed and tumbling down a waterfall of rocks into O'Malley's River, the water's always clean and fresh. Once on the bank, mud squishing between our toes, and shielded by the thickest bushes and trees, we undo our shoes and strip to our underclothes – it's only weird if you make it. Once you do it enough, it's just like wearing a swimsuit. Saoirse flutters to an overhanging pine bough as we splash in, submerging to our necks and swimming around like nixies. Himani flips over to her back and treads water, pointing up at the fluffy clouds and naming creatures – toad, gargoyle, Crumpled-Horn Snorkack. Long auburn hair furls and unfurls around me as I dive under, swirling and tangling around my waist. All around is a murky world of fractured sunlight and fluttery reeds that brush my bare stomach with slimy fingers. Angling deeper my hands sink into gushy silt that oozes from my fist when I push upward, kicking for the surface.

We stay in the pond for as long as we dare – the boys are sure to come down here sometime after breakfast and I do believed I'd die of mortification if Lysander, or any of the boys for that matter, saw me in my current state of dress – and stretch out on the light drenched rocks – fully clothed mind you – soaking up the sun. Saoirse swoops down and perches on a branch just over my head.

"Okay, who do _you_ like then?" Himani asks just as my eyelids are beginning to flutter drowsily, reminding me how my nerves and unstable hormones kept me up half the night – and Lily and Molly's giggling. I smacked them with a pillow when I slumped downstairs early that morning to curl up on the couch.

The question takes me so off guard that I cringe. Inexplicably – stupidly – the image of tousled, messy, white-blonde hair and smoldering charcoal eyes and an infuriating smirk appears in my mind's eye before I shove it under the proverbial rug were it belongs. None of that nonsense. But my cheeks betray me and, sensing weakness, Himani pounces and startles Saoirse, who lets out a screech and ruffles her primaries indignantly.

"Oh my gosh, you _do_ like somebody! Who? You have to tell me! This is huge Rose!"

"Grr off me Mani! I don't have to tell you anything considering you failed to tell my about the whole Lysander affair." I shoot back, mentally scrambling for the list of guys-I-thought-were-cute-at-some-point-in-my-stay-at-Hogwarts filed somewhere in my sub-cranium – my sub-conscious really needs to clean this mess one of these days. Well… I kinda had a crush on Breckin McGuiness 5th year. But he's dating Zephyrine Valjean – a gorgeous transfer from Beauxbatons.

I suppose there's Graham Fletcher, but seeing as Lily's been swooning over him lately...

"Stop being dramatic. It wasn't an affair. We only kissed."

I snort unladylike. "Only _kissed_." Honestly, that's why Lysander's flirtations bothered me so much. He can't have possibly had meant it with every girl he snogged, so he couldn't possibly mean it with me. Maybe it's just me – I _can_ be awfully old-fashioned. A genuine prude, Dom calls me – but I want my first kiss to _mean_ something.

Jesse Weston, maybe? He's nice, I guess. Polite, considerate, classically handsome…

"It's not like either of us were serious about it."

"Then why did you kiss him in the first place if you don't actually like him?" Utterly mystified, I throw my hands up in exasperation.

"I told you." Himani stretches her long legs into the air, pointing her toes to the sky as though trying to step between the clouds. "He kissed me."

"Details?" Rolling to my side, I prop up on my elbow, resting my chin on my arm like a cat. Himani Patil isn't just one to snog any cute boy who presents himself. She has her standards. I just didn't know those standards included Lysander Scamander. Though I'm one to talk considering that I…um…

Cheeks burning, I decide I don't want to finish that thought.

She fans the bottom of her bright red blouse, flipping it up to tan her stomach. "On the train last semester, when we were almost at the station. I went looking for Al remember, cuz he up and disappeared for an hour?" I nod, leaving out that Al left our compartment because Lysander had been flirting with Himani and he hadn't wanted to watch. I didn't blame him, but I'm surprised Mani noticed. "So I'm walking down the hall near the front of the train when somebody spins me around from behind and obviously it was Lysander and we just started talking I guess and then…" Slowly a smile curls her lips and she giggles. "He just sorta kissed me."

"What? So you just kissed him back?" Staring at her, I shake my head. "Why?"

"Rose Weasley, I don't think you understand just how good of a kisser Lysander Scamander is." Lazily she makes circles in the air with her toes. "God, it was dreamy. That boy has skills."

"I could guess." I retort, grumbling. "He's evidently has had a lot of practice." She smirks for a moment before her legs drop and she studies me intently. "What?" Fingers running through my hair, I gather it into a loose bun.

"He likes you." She says it with such certainty I'm suddenly uncomfortable. Scoffing, wave it off.

"Yeah, just as much as he likes every girl in our grade."

"No, I mean he _really_ likes you. As in, he's loony for you." Her brown eyes are far too serious and I force myself to laugh, sitting up and scooting closer to the water edge.

"Yeah right. That's why he has like fifty girlfriends at a time every year." Splashing my dangling feet in the icy pond water, I roll my eyes. To say I'm not Lysander's type is an understatement. He tends to like girls who undo one too many buttons on their blouses and hike up the skirts of our school uniforms. Girls who are brainless and giggly and oh-so-pathetically shallow – Himani being an exception to the rule, of course - I'm the sort who buttons every button, tugs the hemline to her knees, keeps her hair rigidly back in a chignon. The sort who's too smart for her own good, who's temper has seen better days, and murders her opponents on the Quidditch pitch. See? Perfectly incompatible.

"He's just trying to get you to notice him." Himani plops down next to me. Raising a single brow, I say,

"We've been friends since before we were born. I think I'm aware of his existence by now. Now can we please stop talking about this?"

She sighs, likely thinking I'm wasting a perfectly good opportunity. Does she even know me anymore, I wonder? Do I know her? Finally she slaps her thighs and stands up from her pretzel-like position.

"Okay. Fine." She says slyly, pulling me up with her. "Believe what you will. But don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

 **A/N: So I lied. This was supposed to be in 3rd person, but it wasn't going anywhere so I switched to 1st and bam. Ch.1 done in record time. So yeah, this'll be in 1st person and I'll deal with chps with other characters when we get there. Countless thank yous to GreenDayIdiot, morganna12, A Curious Bee, Guest, AriaMoon15, and Evelyn McKay for your super awesome reviews! You guys rock! And for the rest of you, please review. It really doesn't take that long... Saffy Pen over and out.  
**


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